A weekly dose of craic and honesty from the finest storyteller this side of the M50...

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Friday, 15 November 2013

“Every young lad’s nightmare”

One rotten dirty January evening I
came in from work bolloxed tired. It was a Tuesday evening and like most
Tuesdays evenings, I had to give Mammy’s spuds a miss as I was in a rush to
head out to training.

I dragged my heavy hole upstairs to
rob a pair of socks on the father. I sat back down on my auld pair’s bed,
struggling to get the socks up over my kangaroo feet. Then something caught my eye, My bottom jaw dropped with the shock. Wasn't there a brand spanking
shiny new copy of ‘50 SHADES OF GREY’ on her bedside locker looking up, almost
sneering at me.

“Ahhhh jesus nooo Maaaa!”

I threw on the other sock and headed
down stairs like a bull to confront her,

“Ma, where did you get that book on
your locker from!!?” says I.

“A friend, why…?” says she

“Who Ma, tell me!?” says I.

“Peggy Smyth, why is it any use!??”
says she.

“Peggy Smyth?? Well I’ll tell you
here and now, you are not to be hanging around with Peggy anymore. You hear
me?! She’s a bad influence on ya!”

I grabbed my bag and marched towards
the porch to head to training, On the way I gave the sitting room door (where
the auld man was relaxing supping tae and skulling jaffa cakes) a quick knock.

I looked him square in the eye..

“I seen the book Da and I’m telling
you, there’d better be no carrying on out of ye pair while I’m at training ya
hear!”